Chapter 167 Victoria’s Desperate Plea
The morning sun barely broke through the heavy curtains of the McCoy mansion. Dust floated in the still air, and the silence was thick.
The once-lively house felt empty now, stripped of its former elegance. Papers were scattered across the dining table, each one stamped with red ink—FINAL NOTICE, OVERDUE, FORECLOSURE WARNING.
Victoria sat at the head of the table, her manicured fingers clutching a letter so tightly it crumpled. Her usually proud posture was gone; her shoulders were tense, her face pale. Her eyes darted to the stairs when she heard slow, heavy footsteps.
Carson appeared, disheveled as always—his shirt half-tucked, hair messy, eyes dull. He looked like he hadn’t slept.
“Morning,” he muttered, reaching for the coffee pot.
Victoria slammed the letter down. “Morning? That’s all you have to say?” she snapped.
Carson blinked, frowning. “What now?”
She stood up, her hands trembling. “We’re ruined, Carson! The company is finished!”
He froze, the mug halfway to his lips. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re drowning in debt!” she yelled. “Our investors have pulled out. Bridget’s parents have spread enough rumors to destroy our reputation. The bank is ready to seize everything—our shares, our properties, the company name!”
Carson’s jaw tightened. He set the mug down slowly. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Exaggerating?” she repeated with a bitter laugh. “Look at these!” She shoved a stack of papers toward him. “This is not an exaggeration, Carson. This is reality.”
He picked up the documents, scanning them lazily at first, but his expression shifted as he saw the numbers. His hand went stiff.
“How did it get this bad?” he asked quietly.
“How?” Victoria’s voice cracked. “Because you’ve done nothing! You’ve spent months drinking while the company burned to the ground! Because of your laziness, your foolish pride, and that ridiculous guilt over Anabelle!”
Carson winced at the name. “Don’t bring her into this,” he muttered.
“I’ll bring up whoever I want!” Victoria shouted. “You’ve failed us, Carson! You’ve failed your father’s name!”
He looked up sharply. “Don’t talk to me about him,” he said coldly.
Victoria leaned forward, eyes blazing. “Your father built this empire from nothing. He gave you everything, and this is what you’ve done with it? Look around you, Carson! You’ve turned our name into dirt!”
Carson pushed the papers aside and stood up, rubbing his temples. “So what do you expect me to do now?”
“Fix it!” she screamed. “Before it’s too late!”
He stared at her. “Fix it how? The deals are gone, the investors are gone, and Bridget’s family wants us destroyed.”
Victoria’s voice dropped to a sharp, trembling whisper. “Then make peace with them.”
Carson frowned. “What?”
“Marry Bridget again,” she said. “Apologize. Reconcile. Do whatever it takes. It’s our only chance.”
He blinked, as if she had just slapped him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” she said coldly. “Her family still controls major shares in the market. If you go back to her, if you show them you’ve changed, they might reconsider. They might save us.”
Carson let out a harsh laugh. “You want me to crawl back to Bridget? After everything she’s done?”
Victoria stepped closer, her voice shaking but firm. “Do you want to lose everything? Do you want to see your father’s company gone forever? Because that’s where we’re heading.”
He shook his head. “Bridget ruined our name just as much as I did. You think she’ll take me back?”
“She will if it benefits her parents,” Victoria said bitterly. “That family only cares about power. Give them a reason, and they’ll forgive anything.”
Carson leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane.”
“No,” she said, her tone rising again, “this is survival!”
He looked away, silent.
Victoria’s expression softened slightly. “Carson… please,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t lose this family name. I can’t lose everything your father worked for.”
He stayed quiet, staring at the floor.
“Look at me,” she demanded.
He lifted his gaze slowly, meeting her desperate eyes.
“You owe it to him,” she said. “To all of us. If you have even a shred of responsibility left in you, you’ll make this right.”
Carson’s chest tightened. The weight of her words pressed on him like a stone. “You’re asking me to sell myself,” he said bitterly.
“I’m asking you to save us,” she said firmly. “Whatever pride you think you have left won’t matter when we’re bankrupt.”
He turned away, pacing. “You think going back to Bridget will solve everything? She hates me. She’ll make my life miserable.”
“Then let her,” Victoria said coldly. “Better to live miserable than to live broke.”
He stopped walking and stared at her in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re a failure,” she shot back.
Silence filled the room. Only the ticking clock on the wall broke it.
Carson’s hands clenched at his sides. “You think I don’t already know that?” he said quietly. “You think I don’t already hate myself enough?”
Victoria looked away, her face hard but her eyes glassy with tears. “Then prove it,” she whispered. “Prove you can fix something for once.”
He let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “And if I say no?”
“Then you’ll watch everything fall apart,” she said. “The company, the mansion, the McCoy name—everything.”
Carson’s jaw tightened. He could see the fear in her face. It wasn’t just about money—it was about pride, legacy, control. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing her position in society.
He walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside. Outside, the garden was dying—brown leaves, wilted flowers, cracked soil. It mirrored the house perfectly.
He whispered to himself, “So this is what’s left of us.”
Victoria stood behind him, her voice trembling. “You have until the end of the week. After that, it’ll be too late.”
He turned to face her. “You’re serious about this?”
“I’ve already contacted Bridget’s mother,” she admitted quietly. “She’s willing to talk, but only if you show up and apologize.”
Carson stared at her in disbelief. “You already went behind my back?”
“I did what I had to do!” she shouted. “Because you wouldn’t!”
He took a deep breath, his expression tight. “You’ve always controlled everything, haven’t you? Even me.”
Victoria’s lip trembled, but she said nothing.
Carson looked down, his voice low. “You want me to beg for help from the same people who destroyed us.”
“If that’s what it takes,” she said simply.
He shook his head, whispering, “You’ve lost it.”
“No,” she replied firmly. “I’ve accepted reality. Something you’ve refused to do.”
He looked at her one last time—this proud woman, trembling under her polished surface—and saw not just desperation but fear.
Without another word, he grabbed his coat and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To think,” he said shortly.
“Don’t think too long,” she warned. “We don’t have time left.”